SUCKING PIGS.

As we both preach and practise Temperance
according to the English signification of
the word, and as we have lately observed with
ashes on our head that one or two respected
models of that virtue have been thrown into
an ill-humour by our paper on Whole Hogs,
we trust they will be soothed by our present
reference to the milder and gentler class of
swine: which may become Whole Hogs if they
live, but which we fear are but a measly
description of Pork, extremely likely to be
cut off in their Bloom.

The accidental use of the foregoing flowery
expression, brings us to the subject of
our present observations: namely, that last
tender and innocent offspring of Whole Hogs,
on which has been bestowed the name of
BLOOMERISM.

It is a confession of our ignorance which we
make with feelings of humiliation, but when
the existence of this little porker first became
known to us, we supposed its name to have
been conferred upon it in right of its fresh
and gushing nature. We have since learnt,
not without impressions of solemnity, that it
is admiration's tribute to "MRS. COLONEL
BLOOMER," of the United States of America.
What visions rise upon our mind's eye, as our
fancy contemplates that eminent lady, and the
Colonel in whose home she is a well-spring
of joy, we will here make no ineffectual
endeavour to describe.

Neither will we enter upon the great question
of the Rights of Women; whether Majors,
Captains, Lieutenants, Ensigns, Non-commissioned
Officers, or Privates, under Mrs. Colonel
Bloomer; or members of any other corps.
Personally, we admit that our mind would be
disturbed, if our own domestic well-spring
were to consider it necessary to entrench
herself behind a small table ornamented with
a water-bottle and tumbler, and from that
fortified position to hold forth to the public.
Similarly, we should doubt the expediency of
her putting up for Marylebone, or being one
of the Board of Guardians for St. Pancras, or
serving on a Grand Jury for Middlesex, or
acting as High Sheriff of any county, or
taking the chair at a Meeting on the subject
of the Income-Tax. We think it likely that
we might be a little discomfited, if we found
her appealing to her sex through the
advertising columns of the Times, in such
terms as, "Women of the Borough and
of Tooley Street, it is for your good that
I come among you!" or, "Hereditary
bondswomen of Liverpool, know you not, who
would be free, themselves must strike the
blow!" Assuming (for the sake of argument)
our name to be Bellows, we would
rather that no original proceeding, however
striking, on the part of Mrs. Bellows, led to
the adoption, at the various minor theatres
and in the Christmas pantomimes, of the
Bellows Costume; or to the holding at any
public assembly-rooms of a Bellows Ball; or
to the composition of countless Bellows
Polkas; or to the publication of a ballad
(though a pleasing melody with charming
words, and certain to become a favorite)
entitled,  "I should like to be a Bellows!"
In a word, if there were anything that we could
dispense with in Mrs. Bellows above all other
things, we believe it would be a Mission. We
should put the question thus to Mrs. Bellows.
"Apple of our eye, we will freely admit your
inalienable right to step out of your domestic
path into any phase of public appearance
and palaver that pleases you best; but we
doubt the wisdom of such a sally. Beloved
one, does your sex seek influence in the civilised
world? Surely it possesses influence
therein to no mean extent, and has possessed
it since the civilised world was. Should we
love our Julia (assuming, for the sake of
argument, the Christian name of Mrs. Bellows
to be Julia),—should we love our Julia better,
if she were a Member of Parliament, a
Parochial Guardian, a High Sheriff, a Grand
Juror, or a woman distinguished for her able
conduct in the chair? Do we not, on the
contrary, rather seek in the society of our
Julia, a haven of refuge from Members of
Parliament, Parochial Guardians, High
Sheriffs, Grand Jurors, and able chairmen?
Is not the home-voice of our Julia as the
song of a bird, after considerable bow-wow-ing
out of doors? And is our Julia certain
that she has a small table and water-bottle
Mission round the corner, when here are
nine (say, for the sake of argument, nine)
little Bellowses to mend, or mar, at home?
Does our heart's best treasure refer us to the
land across the Atlantic for a precedent?